Hot as Summer
by Firstlady1408
Summary: MarthaAaron sequel to Cold as Ice. Our fave duo return to Washington, and Martha must confront her husband before she can move on.
1. Chapter 1

Martha sat on the edge of the hard hospital bed, gazing out of the window. It was a beautiful day, and she remembered how much she missed L.A. It was so lovely compared to Washington , where she had never felt quite at home, and accessorizing umbrellas to go with her outfits was not a task she particularly enjoyed. Back in Los Angeles , she felt at home – and surprisingly, considering what had happened here only a few short weeks ago, she felt safe. Of course, that could also have a lot to do with a certain redheaded agent who had made daily visits to the hospital during her stay. It had been a long and trying ten days. Yes, Martha Logan was ready to go home. Home…where exactly was home, she wondered, as she stared again out of the window. Hal Gardner had been sworn in as the new President a few days after David's funeral. Charles had quietly stepped down with little fuss. She had managed to sneak a look at the headlines in the paper, although it seemed they were being conveniently hidden from her eyes. Of course, Aaron had kept her updated, and Mike had visited and also told her what had happened, as well as giving her the name of a highly-regarded and overpriced divorce attorney. It had been called a breakdown in the more tabloid press. The pressures of what had happened on that fateful day had caused the country's President to suffer from stress, and as such had decided, for the good of the country, to relinquish his position. Martha inwardly chuckled as she thought of the irony surrounding that particular story. All these years, she had been known as the unsteady one. Yet, the country was being told that their Commander-in-Chief was suffering from stress. Of course, the official story was that Charles was going through personal difficulties and no longer felt he could serve his country to the best of his ability. Personal difficulties...again, she smiled to herself. The rumors had already started to circulate: She was back in the clinic in Vermont and Charles was playing the dutiful husband. Their marriage was over and divorce proceedings had begun. Well, that paper had hit it on the nose, at least, she thought.

It had been so difficult keeping what she knew to herself. Of course, she had Aaron, and even poor Mike, to go over what had happened on that day with her. But she still couldn't understand. No matter how hard she tried, she still couldn't understand why her husband of nearly thirty years had done what he had. Aaron had thought that this was a good thing that she couldn't understand, because she was not capable of performing the atrocities Charles had. He had laughed at the confusion on her face when she had said how it eluded her that Charles had done the things he had done.

"Why are you laughing?" she had said, a little annoyed. What she was asking was serious.

"Oh, Martha…I'm not laughing at you. I'm just grateful that you don't understand what your husband did." He had leaned forward and almost whispered in her ear. "You don't understand, because you're a good person. Your mind just doesn't work in that way, and I'm glad." He had turned his face to hers and softly kissed her on the lips -- one of the many kisses they had managed to steal while she had been in the hospital.

Now, as she sat on the bed, suitcase packed and ready to leave, she began to wonder. Would it be as easy for them in the real world? Would they be able to find the time to get to know one another properly? Being in this room had been like living in a bubble; she had been protected from the outside world, and Aaron had been able to come and go as he pleased without arousing suspicion. A shiver went down her spine as she began to think that things may not be as easy once she returned home. She resumed her fixed gaze out of the window.

"Guess who?"

She jumped as someone quietly approached her from behind and placed a pair of warm hands over her eyes. When she recognized the voice, however, she relaxed and grinned.

"George Clooney!" she quipped, and the hands dropped from her face.

"Well, no. But I can see if he's free, if that's who you want." The voice that spoke to her back was playful and mock-hurt.

She turned and faced her playmate. "Well, it's a tough choice."

Aaron pouted, and Martha let out a laugh. In the ten days she had been in this room, she had discovered that her once stoic Secret Service agent could be funny and well, almost mischievous -- as well as devastatingly handsome. She stood so they were eye to eye and sighed dramatically. "But I guess you'll do." She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his lips and felt the now familiar feeling of her legs turning to jelly as he put his arms around her and deepened the kiss, his tongue battling hers until they found their now natural rhythm.

"Now that's what I call a welcome," she told him, her lips still barely touching his. He could feel her breath against his face as she spoke.

"Well, I do aim to please. Besides, today is a momentous day. They're finally letting you go home." He smiled fondly at her.

"Home." Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she pushed away from his hold. "I don't even know where that is, Aaron." She walked toward the window and again gazed at the now-familiar view. Slowly he walked over toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned her body back into his and once again began to relax. God, they really should put this man in prescription form, she thought and smiled to herself.

"Well, I know it's not ideal, but I am under instructions that you first be taken back to the White House and..." Aaron began.

She again pulled away from his embrace and spun on her heel to face him. "The White House! Oh, Aaron, I don't know if I can do that. I mean, officially it's no longer my home, and the thought of being back there..." She shuddered as she let her sentence trail off.

"I know, Martha. Believe me, I understand, but there is still protocol. We have to discuss your new security arrangements. After what happened to us, they are not going to let you set up home in the suburbs and barbecue by the pool. You may still be in danger, and even if they thought there was no immediate threat, you are the former First Lady; you need security. The President was quite clear with his instructions -- I was to collect you and bring you immediately to the White House.

Martha looked up from the floor and smiled teasingly at Aaron. "But I have all the protection I need. You're here, aren't you?"

He smiled at her, and with a peck of a kiss to her nose, said, "Well, let's get going, and try to make things more official, shall we?"

The drive back to the White House was quiet. Aaron could tell by her posture that she was not looking forward to their arrival. She sat staring out of the window, and her face was grim. He wished he could take her back to his small apartment and keep her safe from the hardship he knew lay ahead.

The car traveled on through the familiar streets, and Martha sat back as they began their trek up Pennsylvania Ave.

"You ready?" he asked quietly, so as not to let the agents in the front seat hear.

"As I'll ever be." She took a deep breath as the car came to a halt outside what had once been her home.

Martha glanced around the unfamiliar room. She had lived here sporadically for the last eighteen months. When Charles had first taken office, she had amused herself by wandering around the large building, looking for hidden passageways, but she had never found one. As she again took in her current surroundings, she realized she had never been in this room. Well, obviously, she thought, she would no longer be occupying the main suite. That now belonged to Hal and Beth Gardner. And if she was honest, the rooms held too many memories of things she did not want to revisit at this time. She jumped slightly as the door opened, and turning, she found the corners of her mouth tugging up into a smile. Did he truly know what effect he had on her? The time they had spent together at the hospital had been their time. No interruptions – well, except for that annoying nurse who never seemed to have a day off. They had spent their time talking about anything and everything. He had told her about his time growing up in Texas , his son, of whom he was obviously so proud, and on one occasion, he had even spoke to her of his ex-wife, Diane. She, in turn, had told him of her childhood in Massachusetts , and her two older sisters, both of whom had visited her once, but never when Aaron was there. The only subject they had rarely touched on was the one they needed to talk about most -- Charles. Of course, they had spoken of his resignation from office, and of her beginning divorce proceedings, but little else. As she looked at him now struggling with her luggage, she smiled again and wondered if he truly knew how she felt about him._ There's no rush, Martha, _she said to herself. _You're free now; you have all the time in the world to make sure he knows. _

"Well, I can't speak from experience -- my only stay in the hospital was when I was 10 and I had my appendix out. But you didn't happen to bring home any vital machinery home with you, did you? I mean, you know the ultrasounds aren't for keeping, right?" He smiled at her as he placed the last of her heavy bags onto the floor.

She grinned at him, looking about sixteen. "Well, there were a couple of cute male nurses...a girl has needs, you know."

"Seriously." He walked over to where she stood. " How're you feeling?"

"Lost, scared, alone." She glanced up into his eyes.

"You're not alone, Martha. I know it's not going to be as easy for us to be alone here, but I promise you now, I am not going anywhere. If you need m,e I will be right here at your side." He furtively glanced at the door, and seeing it was closed, he placed his hands on either side of her face and gently kissed her on the cheek. "Now are you ready?" She looked at him, confused. "The President wants to see you."

Christ! Martha thought as she struggled to breathe. She'd survived nearly being frozen, and now it felt as if she was going to be asphyxiated on a combination of cheap polyester and Old Spice. She wondered how long was long enough to be locked in Gardner 's embrace before she could pull away. After another second, though, she was released, and she stood facing the new President of the United States .

"Martha! Martha, it's so good to have you back. Beth and I were just sick when we heard what had happened to you."

_Sick._ Martha thought sarcastically, that's why you both came to visit me. She looked up and smiled graciously. "Thank you, Mr. President. I have to say it's good to be out of the hospital

"Please, Martha -- it's Hal."

"Well, thank you, Hal. And I must thank you for letting me stay here until I make alternative arrangements. Please pass on my thanks to Beth. She is well, I hope?"

"Very well. She was sorry not to have been here, but she's visiting our eldest, Catherine -- she is due to have her first baby at any time."

"Oh, how nice! Do congratulate her for me." Martha shifted on her feet and wondered how much longer she was going to have to make small talk, when all she wanted to do was return to her room and throw herself under a blanket. Well, if she was honest, all she wanted to do was curl up under a blanket with Aaron. But until she was out of here, that was not seeming very likely.

"Thank you. Now, please, Martha -- take a seat." He gestured to a chair and returned to the seat behind the desk in the Oval Office. " I know things are not going to be easy for you, now that you're back in Washington . The press is obviously going to be very interested in where you've been. I understand you have started divorce proceedings against your husband."

Martha sat in the chair facing him. "Yes, I have."

"I see, I see." Well, under the circumstances, I can understand that. We have drafted a small statement to be read to the press tomorrow." He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to her. " As I know you are aware, we have glossed over the true facts of that day, but we strongly feel that to decrease the media interest in you, this is the best way to deal with things."

Martha picked up her purse and took out her reading glasses. Glasses! She cast a glance over the neatly typed words. It began simply enough. She had already read in the papers about Charles' supposed breakdown, but what she read next made her begin to feel a swell of anger in her stomach. She began to read aloud. "I strongly feel at this time of crisis in my husband's life that he needs professional medical care -- care which, at this time, I feel I am unable to give him. Although I remain an integral part of his life and will continue to support and ensure he is given the best treatment possible, I regret to say that our marriage has been unable to withstand the added pressure, and we have legally separated. Pending additional paperwork and counsel, I will be seeking a divorce from my husband." Martha calmly placed the paper in her lap and slowly took off her glasses. Taking her time to fold them and place them back in her purse she took a couple of deep breaths and regained her composure.

"Mr. Pres... Hal. I have to say that, in all honesty, I feel that I have served my country to the best of my ability. What I had to deal with on that day will remain with me for the rest of my life." She noticed her voice had begun to raise and again composed herself and spoke evenly. "On that day, I found out that the man I had been married to for going on thirty years was a traitor, and no matter what has been said to the country and the media, you and I both know this to be true. I will put up, no, I have already put up with, a lot of things for you and my country. But what I will not put up with is being branded a wife who will desert her husband in his time of need. So, Mr. President, and I say this with all due respect: No, I do not find this response acceptable, and I will not be reading this statement tomorrow. I will, however, happily stand up and talk to the media, God knows I want to be left alone to get on with my life. But I will not read this." She calmly walked over to the desk and placed the statement on his desk. looking him firmly in the eye she continued. "I appreciate you letting me stay here, Mr. President. I will, however, be making arrangements to leave as soon as possible. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to return to my rooms. When your staff has drafted another...excuse, I will be happy to read it." She nodded her head briefly. "Mr. President." Walking to the door, she let out the gasp of air she had been holding in, and smiled inwardly at the look on Hal's face. Without looking back, she left the room.

Sinking into the large easy chair by the window, Martha began to breathe at her usual pace again. How dare they! How dare they make her out to be the bad guy! She gave a half smile to herself though as she remembered the look on Hal's face as she had left the room. It reminded her of a goldfish she once had as a child. Giggling softly to herself, she sank further into the chair and let her eyes close. All too soon she was jolted back to the present by a knock at her door. Dammit, if this was Hal, she was leaving the country. "Come in!" she barked at the closed door.

"Well, that's a nice welcome, I must say." Aaron smiled, as his presence filled her room.

"Aaron, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you; I thought you were the President."

Aaron raised one eyebrow. "The President! Martha, I know you were the First Lady, but you can still be charged with...I don't know, treason or something, for shouting at the President."

She smiled and pulled herself into a sitting position in the chair, her slender legs still tucked beneath her. "Aaron, we need to talk."

He walked over to where she sat and knelt beside her. "Martha, I was once married, and I have to say that no conversation that began with those words ever turned out good for me. Should I be wearing my bulletproof vest?"

She reached out and took his hands in hers. "How do you do that, Agent Pierce?" she purred.

"Do what, Mrs. Logan?" He stroked her fingers with his thumb.

"Make me feel that an atomic bomb could go off in front of me, but you would still find a way to make me smile."

"Oh, I don't know. Practice?"

She mock glared at him. "Practice? On who?"

"So, what do we need to talk about?"

"I don't want to stay here, Aaron. I thought it as we left the hospital, and I knew it as we arrived here. I don't belong here anymore, and I want to leave. I have a house just outside of Los Angeles . It's not the White House, but its homey, and just what I need right now." She looked down at their entwined fingers.

"I think that would be good for you. But what has it got to do with..."

"Come with me, Aaron," she blurted out. "I know your life is here, your job is here. But I'll need a small detail when I leave here, I know that, and I want you on that detail."

"You want me as your bodyguard?" Aaron pulled his fingers slightly out of her tight grasp.

"No, no, no." She pulled him back towards her. "Aaron, you know I want you as more than that. What we started in the hospital...I...I want to explore that with you. Please believe me, Aaron -- I want that more than anything. But we would be stupid if we didn't accept that we cannot begin a relationship in the public eye just yet. I'm not divorced yet. The media is still clamoring for a story, and I don't want them to turn what we have into something sordid. What I feel for you, Aaron, is pure and sweet, and I don't want that to be tainted. Not by anyone. If you came with me to the house on my detail there would be no gossip. You would be there to do a job." She leaned closer to him and whispered. "Of course, what we choose to do behind closed doors is no one's business but ours."

He reached out to her face and held it softly in his hands. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to leave my job here at the White House, my apartment, my life, and come and be your bodyguard slash secret gigolo at your new house."

Her breath caught in her mouth at their close proximity, but she smiled and replied, "Who said anything about gigolo? I just can't cook!" She leaned in and closed the gap between them and gently kissed him. She pulled away slowly. "So, what do you say?"

"I say..." He kissed her again. "Where do I sign?"

Martha looked up at him, the happiness radiating out of her beautiful blue eyes. "Where are you going?" Aaron had let go of her and stood up, making his way to the door.

"The quicker I request a transfer, the quicker we can leave." He continued to the door and opened it, alarming a nervous aide who stood about to knock on the other side.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have a message for Mrs. Logan." He handed Aaron an envelope and scurried away down the hall.

"What is it?" Martha got up from her chair.

"A letter, for you."

"Oh, it's probably the new statement from Hal. That was quick." She took the envelope from him and glanced down at her name on the front. Aaron looked at her concern growing as the blood seemed to drain from her face.

"What is it? Martha, what?"

She looked up at him, her face a mask of fear. "It's from Charles."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"From Charles? How in the name of...you there, wait!" Aaron shouted after the nervous aide who was trying to beat a hasty retreat from the room. "Where did you get this? Hey. Who gave you this?" He was shouting now.

The aide turned back to face an enraged Aaron. "It was just passed to me, sir. I was asked to bring it here to Mrs. Logan." The boy almost tripped over his words as he looked at his superior's face.

Aaron took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It was not the boy's fault. "Alright, son. You can go." The young man quickly turned and fled down the corridor. Calmer now, Aaron turned back to Martha, who had remained silent during his tirade. Looking at her face, he didn't know what to think. For the first time in weeks, he could not read her, had no idea what she was thinking. She just stood still, looking down at the letter she held in her shaking hand.

"Martha," Aaron tried. She didn't look up. "Martha," he repeated, louder this time.

She shook her head as if coming out of a trance and looked at Aaron. "Sorry?"

"Are you alright? Want me to get rid of it?" He moved to take the envelope from her, and quickly she snatched her hand back. "Martha?" Aaron looked at her, confused.

" Aaron, could you leave me alone for a while?" She didn't meet his eyes.

" Martha, I really feel tha..."

She cut him off curtly. "Please, Aaron. I need to be by myself for a while." Slowly she met his gaze and saw such confusion there, but she couldn't deal with that at this point in time. She wanted to be on her own. "Aaron I..."

"No, it's fine; I'll leave you. I'll start making the arrangements for L.A. You still want to go, right?"

"Yes...no...I don't..." Just give me a few minutes, and I'll call you." She turned away from him and walked toward the chair by the window. She knew she was being unfair to him, but whatever Charles had to say, it was her problem and she didn't want to drag anyone else into the sorry state of affairs that had become her marriage. She heard the door softly close, and taking a deep breath, she sank into the armchair and opened the letter.

_My dearest Marty, _

_If you are reading this, then you have, as I expected, returned to the White House. I am still in D.C., in a safehouse provided to me by the government. I really don't know where or how to begin. Or if you have indeed already torn this letter up. If you haven't, Martha, then I beg you to keep reading. I know you owe me nothing, but as your husband, I have to say these things to you. What I did at the airfield was inexcusible -- striking you-- but you have to believe me when I say I was not in my right mind. I am deeply sorry. And I know I have no right to ask for or expect your forgiveness. What I did on that day, Marty, was truly what I believed to be in the best interest of our country. But, on reflection, and having these few weeks to think things through, I know what I did was wrong. You have to believe that. I received a letter from your lawyer today, and although I can understand why you feel the need to distance yourself from me, I am asking you -- no begging you -- to come see me one last time. There are too many things I want to say that I cannot put into a letter. Hal knows where I am staying, and I ask you once again to please come to see me. Then, if you still wish to proceed with the divorce, I will not stop you. _

_Your loving husband, Charles _

Martha took one final look at the letter, carefully folded it, placed it back in the envelope, and put it on the side table. She exhaled, feeling as if she had been holding her breath while reading the letter. She glanced one last time at the white paper beside her and sank back into the chair. Her thoughts seemed to have stopped along with her breath, and she stared numbly out of the window.

Aaron had not gone far from Martha's room; he found himself pacing the long corridor just a few yards away. He had left the room as she had asked, and had to stop himself several times as he felt the pull to return to her side. But she had said she wanted to be alone. So, alone he would leave her. He stopped pacing and leaned heavily against the wall. What was Charles doing, writing to her? He had heard the recording -- surely the man was not so insane as to think Martha would ever forgive him for what had done. Not just to the country, but to his wife. His wife -- the person you are supposed to love above all things, to keep safe, to cherish. Not to lie to and cheat on. No, Charles had not behaved as a husband should. And now he had the audacity to try to reach out to her in a letter. He knew from his conversations with Martha in the hospital that she had filed for divorce; surely Charles would not contest that, after all he had put her through. Aaron began his pacing of the long, bland corridor again and looked at his watch. He had left her alone for nearly thirty minutes. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, making sure it was on. Why hadn't she called him? He scrolled down the phone book to her name, and his finger hovered over the dial button. Damn this. He slammed his phone shut and headed back toward her room. Reaching her door, he walked on the spot for a few seconds before gently tapping on the door. Nothing. He knocked a little louder, and when he got no response, he carefully pushed the door open a crack. He looked into the brightly-lit room and saw her sitting curled up by the window. He resisted the urge to run to her and scoop her in his arms, she looked so lost. Instead he slowly moved toward her, and when she showed no reaction to him being in the room with her, he knelt by her chair and softly touched one of her legs. "Martha," he whispered. She jumped as if he had shouted the words right into her ear, and turned to look at him.

"Aaron. I'm sorry, I was a million miles away. Or should I say twenty nine years away."

He softly began to stroke her leg and looked into her blue eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

" I was just thinking...where did it all start? I mean with Charles. You don't just wake up one morning and think, "okay, i'm going to jump into bed with terrorists today." I keep trying to think when it began. Was I there? I suppose it could have started as far back as Vermont -- maybe the stress of having to deal with me made him..."

Aaron took his hand off her leg and firmly held the side of her face. "Martha, don't you dare. Don't you start blaming yourself for any of this. You had no idea. His closest advisors had no idea." He looked deeply into her eyes, but could still see she was a million miles away. He loosened his grip on her face and began to softly caress the side of her face as she continued to talk.

"I was his wife. He was the glue that held my pathetic excuse of a life together after Jeremy died. When he told me I was going to Vermont, I trusted him. I truly believed he was doing what he thought was right for me. What was best for me. I can't think, Aaron. I can't remember." She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. His hand stilled on her face. "When did it start? Why didn't I see it?"

"Martha, I wish I had the answers you're looking for, but I don't. All I know is that none of what your hus...none of what Charles did had anything to do with you. You couldn't have changed it. You couldn't have stopped it."

Martha reached her hand to her cheek and pulled his hand away from her face. Standing up with such force the chair she had been sitting in moved back a few inches, she looked down at him with anger in her face.

"But I need to know, Aaron! Don't you understand? I need to know when the man that I loved more than life itself turned into what he is today."

Aaron stood and reached out his arms to her, and just as quickly, she moved out of his grasp.

"Don't you want to know what was in the letter?"

"I figured you'd tell me when you wanted to." He smiled at her and her mask of anger that had clouded over her porcelain features lifted slightly, and she reached out to touch his cheek. "Dear, dear Aaron. Always the gentleman." Letting her hand drop, she looked into his face and began to speak slowly. "He wants me to go to see him. He's in DC. Hal knows where, and he wants to see me."

Aaron let a flicker of horror betray his calm exterior for a split second, and knew she had seen it.

"You don't think I should go."

"What I think, Martha, is that you don't owe him anything. He gave up that right nearly a month ago."

Martha let out a frustrated sigh and began to walk away from him. "Haven't you been listening to me, Aaron? I need to know. I need to see him." As she said the words, she finally knew what she had to do. Yes, she would see him, not because he wanted her to, but because she had to grasp some understanding of what he had done. She knew that part of her would never be able to rest, as long as she had these questions. She turned and looked at Aaron. His face retained its usual stoic expression, but she could see that he was confused and even a little hurt by her decision. "Please try to understand. I need you to understand."

He looked at her eyes pleading with him. But while he knew what she was saying made sense, he strongly doubted she would find the answers she was so desperately looking for. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hurt all over again. But as he gazed into her eyes, he knew what she wanted him to say.

"Alright, Martha, if this is what you want, I will go to see the President and get the address. Do you want us to go now?"

As she looked quickly away from him, not meeting his eyes, he knew. "Martha, I am going with you. You cannot go there alone."

She looked back toward him, "I won't be alone, Aaron, but I don't want you to come."

He allowed the look of horror to remain on his face this time. "Martha..." He took a step toward her, reaching for her hand.

She stepped back out of his grasp. "I'm sorry, Aaron. This is something I need to do." Pushing her hair out of her face, she walked to the closet and took out her coat. As she headed toward the door, she turned and gently smiled at him. "I will be back." And with that final comment ringing in his ears, she left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

As she sat in the limousine Hal had provided for her, along with Charles' address, she began to think back to her parting words to Aaron. She knew that what she had said sounded harsh, at least to her ears. But she couldn't involve him in her mess. And this was her mess -- she had stayed married to a traitor for years, and she was the one, the only one, who could clean things up. Looking out of the window at the grey sky, she sighed as she thought of his face when she had told him he would not be accompanying her to see her husband. He had looked so hurt, so confused. Of course, he had tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but Martha was starting to be able to read him and she knew he was hurt. She could understand; she would have felt the same way, but she just couldn't seem to vocalize to him what she was feeling. If truth be known, she wasn't sure herself what she was feeling. Maybe she should call him. Just to hear his voice. Reaching for the car phone, she held it in her hands for a few seconds. What would she say? _Hey, Aaron, it's me. I know we have just started something wonderful together, but I have to visit my husband without your being there for my own sanity. For my own piece of mind. I know he is a murderous bastard, but you don't mind if I drop call in for coffee, do you? _Putting the receiver back, she resumed her gaze out of the window. No, she couldn't explain it to him when she couldn't explain it to herself. Turning to face the partition that blocked her view out of the front window, she tapped on it gently. An agent pressed to button to drop the plain board and looked back at her.

"Yes, Mrs. Logan ."

"I'm sorry -- how long, roughly, until we get there?" she asked, her voice not once betraying the tremor she felt inside.

"We're just pulling up the street now, Mrs. Logan."

"Thank you," Martha replied, and the partition closed.

Taking two deep breaths, Martha wished for a second that she had brought her medication with her. She had not touched them since returning to the White House. But now she felt the familiar stirring in her stomach and the numbness in her lips and fingers. Signs that usually meant she was about to have a panic attack. She looked instinctively in her purse for the familiar orange bottle, but found none. Taking another deep breath, she tried to focus on happy thoughts. he wanted this meeting to proceed with her head clear and fresh, and not drugged up with Valium. Starting to feel slightly more relaxed, she rested her head on the headrest behind her. Then she quickly sat up as she felt the car draw to a stop. Glancing out of the window, she found herself in an unfamiliar part of town. They appeared to have left the busy streets of Washington and seemed to be pulling up to a farmhouse. She noticed four guards standing outside the main gate, and again her stomach lurched. She began to wish she had asked Aaron to come with her.

"Mrs Logan?"

One of her detail had opened the car door for her and was looking at her, wondering why she had not as yet moved from the middle of the car seat.

Taking a final deep breath, she moved to the edge of the seat and gracefully removed herself from the safe confines of the car. She stopped as the door closed behind her and took in her surroundings. She was in the middle of the country somewhere. All she could see for miles around were fields and trees. She thought to herself that if the circumstances were different, she would love to walk around the grounds exploring. It truly was a beautiful place. Looking up at the house in front of her, she found herself thinking of a book she had once read as a child, Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. The author had described the Count's castle as grey and foreboding – the same thoughts she was having as she stared at the large house.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Logan?" her Agent asked, a kindly smile on his face.

"Yes. Thank you. The house is secure, I presume, so you and Agent...um Agent..." Damn! She could never remember their names.

"Agent Morris, Ma'am."

"Yes. You can both wait here in the car. I'll be fine from here." She began to move away from the door towards the large almost Gothic gates.

"As you like, Mrs. Logan." The Agent watched until she reached the gate and then gladly retreated to the warm comfort of the car.

Martha reached the gate and pressed the small intercom.

"Yes." A faceless voice snapped.

"This is Mrs. Logan. I have a meeting with my hus...with Mr. Logan."

The gates swung open, and Martha began the short walk to the front door, her heels clip clopping on the asphalt. She kept her head held high as she approached the agents standing at the door.

"Mrs. Logan. Your husband is expecting you," the taller of them said. He looked down at his feet and almost seemed to squirm on the spot. "Umm. I'm sorry about this, Mrs. Logan, but we need to check your bag."

Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, she handed her bag over to the man, and jumped as she felt something brush against the back of her coat. She turned around and saw the second agent run a metal detector over her.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked, a hint of coldness in her voice. I mean for God's sake, if she had wanted to assassinate her husband, she had had plenty of opportunity to do it before now. And plenty of reason.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Logan, it's just standard practice. She's clean."

The taller agent looked embarrassed and handed her back her purse. "All fine here, too."

"Are you sure?" She asked growing exasperated at the proceedings. "I mean, I think I have a pair of tweezers in there somewhere. Could take someone's eye out!"

The agents chose to ignore her comment and opened the door. The taller of the men followed her in and gestured toward a door at the end of a dim corridor. "This way, Mrs. Logan."

She followed the dark-suited man along the corridor. Looking from side to side, she noticed the walls had damp patches on them -- it certainly looked as if this place had not been occupied for a very long time. She stifled a chuckle as she thought how far removed from the White House this place was.

The man she had been following stopped at a large wooden door and turned to her. "I'll leave you here, Mrs. Logan. I will be waiting right outside if you need me. She smiled gratefully at the man's obvious concern. She supposed protecting the former President known to a few to be a traitor to his country was not every agent's dream detail.

"Thank you," she replied formally and lifted her gloved hand to knock at the door. A familiar voice called back to her. "Come in."

Taking another deep breath -- her yoga really was coming in handy today she thought -- she opened the door to the room.

"Marty." Charles stood from the large chair he had been occupying near the log fire burning in the grate and took a step towards her. "Thank you for coming." She looked at him, the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with; she noticed he hadn't shaved for what looked like quite a few days. He had the beginnings of a beard. He was dressed, as always, though, impeccably, in a smart deep blue suit with the tie knotted tight at his neck. Martha shuddered as she remembered the last time she had helped him out of a similar tie. Still she said nothing.

"Won't you sit down?" Charles gestured to the chair beside the fire facing his and he retook his own seat. Walking slowly towards him, Martha concentrated on peeling of her gloves and placing them in her purse. Still, she sat in the chair offered and turned to look him directly in the face. Her husband.

Not letting his eyes drift from hers, he began to talk. "I wasn't sure if you would come."

"Neither was I."

"I suppose I deserve that." He smiled at her and looked down at his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"What do you want, Charles?" Martha asked, still maintaining eye contact.

"To see you. To try to explain. To say I forgive you."

Martha sat bolt upright in her chair and nearly dropped her purse. "You forgive me?"

"I'm sorry, that came out the wrong way. What I meant to say was I understand what you did. You did what you believed to be in the best interests of the country. But what I wanted to say to you, Martha, was so did I. Everything I did on that day I truly believed to be in the best interests of our great nation." He looked up and made eye contact with her again.

Martha sat forward slightly in her chair and stared him down. "Charles, you got into bed with terrorists. You caused the death of one of this nation's greatest leaders. And you dare sit there telling me you did it for your country." She felt her voice begin to raise slightly and sat back to compose herself. She was damned if she would let him see how much he had hurt her.

"I have come here today, Charles, but I will not sit here and listen to you try to justify what you did on that day. And, as for you understanding what I did! What I did was to help bring you to justice. But it seems even that was a waste of time. I've read the headlines -- you seem to have come out of this quite well."

"That wasn't my idea, Marty, the administration felt that a long, drawn-out impeachment process was not in the best interests of the country. I was prepared to serve my time. I still am. If I knew that you would be waiting for me."

This time she did not just sit forward; she bolted to a standing position. She allowed a laugh to escape her tightened lips. "You're kidding!"

"Marty..."

"Don't call me that. Not anymore." She turned her back to him and began to pace the room.

"I'm sorry. Martha. I know now what I did that day was wrong terribly wrong. But the one thing that hurts me more than anything was that I let you down. And that I can't be with you to support you during all of this. You must be going through hell, Martha. Have you spoken to your doctor recently?" He stood up and faced her, watching her pace.

"Wha..? No, Charles. No. Why would I need to...?" She stopped and looked at him, his face a mask of concern.

"It's just I know how you get, Marty, when you have added pressure put on you. I know how you react, and at a time like this you really need people who understand you to be around," he laughed sympathetically. "And after nearly thirty years of marriage, Martha, I think I know you better than anyone. Look I'm not asking you to come running back to me, but let me make sure that you are looked after properly. I mean, the last place you want to end up is back in Vermont ."

Martha gaped at him, her mind swirling in a mist. She opened her mouth to speak but the words would not pass her lips.

"All I'm saying, Marty... I'm sorry, Martha, is maybe you need to think about yourself and others around you. If you allow what's happened to play on your mind, you know you will have another one of your spells, and I couldn't bear for that to happen. Not again," he soothed, approaching her side he reached out for one of her hands.

Finally finding her voice, Martha shook his hand off hers and whirled around to face him. "You're wrong, Charles. It has been nearly a month since that day, and I feel...I feel." She laughed. "I feel fine."

"You say that now, Martha, but we both know it will happen, be it next month, next year, tomorrow. It will happen, and you need someone by your side that can deal with you and look after you."

Still laughing and feeling tears begin to burn behind her eyes, Martha looked around the room. She felt trapped, she felt her breathing begin to speed up and suddenly the fire, once so warm, was making her lightheaded.

Charles again began to walk towards her, and seeing her begin to panic, took the opportunity to take her hand. "You know how fragile you are, Marty. No one will ever be able to deal with your emotional problems like me." He stopped suddenly as he felt her hand grasp his tightly. He knew he would be able to do this -- she would come back to him. He just knew it. Stepping closer to her, he took their joined hands and placed them over his heart. Seeing her crumble in front of him, he pulled her close and embraced her, feeling her head fall limply against his shoulder. He whispered in her ear. "You need me." He felt her stiffen in his arms and pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, and what he saw there made him take another step back from her. Her eyes which just a moment ago had been about to spill unshed tears were dry and cold. Confused, he let go of her and waited.

Closing the gap between them once again, Martha put her arms around him and slowly but clearly whispered in his ear. "I despise you, Charles. When you look at me, you make me sick. When I feel your arms around me, you make my skin crawl." She pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. "I don't need you, Charles, not anymore. What I need is to put as much distance between us as is humanly possible, and even that would not be far enough for my liking. You are a pathetic excuse of a man, and I wish I had been able to see it years ago. No, Charles, I do not need you. You need me. And for once in your life, you can't have me."

Picking up her purse from the chair, she opened the clasp and took out her gloves slowly. Putting them on, she looked at the shell of a man that had once been her life and felt nothing. Not even pity. "I am leaving now, Charles, do not try to contact me again. If you need to discuss anything, you will do it through my lawyer. But I never, and believe me when I say this, I do not ever want to see you again."

Leaving him standing, gaping, after her, she left the room, letting the door close softly behind her. Yes, she thought. That door is now finally closed.

As she sat in the car on the way back to the White House, Martha realized she had never felt so free. Twenty years of pent-up frustration had just been let out in an old farmhouse, and she had never felt better. She didn't feel smug or satisfied that yet again she had got the better of her husband. She just felt..._free_ was the only word she could think of to describe it. The realization that for the most part of her life she had felt like a bird trapped in a cage, and now that she had said her piece, she felt as if she could fly to the highest tree and sing her heart out. Smiling to herself, she thought of what would happen next. She would leave the White House as soon as possible and move to her smaller residence outside of Los Angeles . And Aaron would be there...she stopped in her tracks, the smile disappearing from her face. Oh my God, Aaron. She had been so awful to him before she had left to see Charles. She knew that what she had just done she had to do alone. But what had Aaron thought? Just that she didn't want him around her. Her happiness over her confrontation with Charles rapidly faded as she thought about how she could make it up to Aaron.

Rushing into her rooms at the White House, she tore off her coat and gloves and flung them onto the bed. Almost running to the bedside table, she picked up the phone and dialed Secret Service. "Hello? Yes, this is Martha Logan. I wonder if you could pass on a message to Agent Pierce. Okay. Thank you." She waited while the man found a pen, drumming her fingers impatiently on the receiver. "Yes,yes…I'm still here. Just say that Mrs. Logan has returned and would like to see him as soon as possible. What...? No, I'm in my rooms. Yes, I'll be here all day, but I would like to see him straightaway. In fact, no -- wait -- in one hour. Yes, tell him to be here in one hour. Thank you. No, there's nothing else." Smiling, she replaced the receiver and, hugging herself, practically sprinted into her bathroom.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror twenty minutes later, Martha felt much better. She had wanted to wash off every trace of Charles. She had allowed herself to spend longer than usual in the shower and had even washed her hair with her favorite strawberry shampoo. Putting the finishing touches to her make up, she looked back at herself. Not bad, Martha, she thought. Now, the hair. She plugged in her dryer and twisted strands of her silken hair around her finger so when it dried it fell in soft waves around her shoulders and framed her face. After fifteen minutes of doing this and finally getting bored, she stopped and again surveyed the progress she was making. She had never thought of herself as vain, but as she looked at herself, she noticed for the first time in years, there was a relaxed quality to her face, an almost serene look about her. Stop it Martha, she chastised herself, you've got ten minutes to find something to wear. She grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her as she made her way into the bedroom. She was not relishing choosing something to wear, after all, she had not yet even unpacked. Glancing at her bags, she noticed they were empty. Walking to the large walk-in closet, she found all her clothes hanging in neat rows. God bless the staff, they must have done all this while she was away. Quickly flicking through outfits she came across a pair of jeans. Lord, she could not remember the last time she had worn jeans. Certainly not since Charles had been sworn in. Even when they were at the ranch and had no dignitaries visiting, he had insisted she dress to impress at all times, even going as far as to buy most of her clothes for her. Well, to hell with it! She was no longer First Lady, and smiling, she pulled them from the rack. Still, she wanted to make a lasting impression on Aaron, so she also pulled down a low-cut white sweater that clung to her curves in all the right places. Quickly putting the clothes on, she finished off the look with a pair of low-heeled boots and a long string of pearls, scrambling around her dressing table, she found the matching earrings and put them on. Briefly glancing at her watch, she noticed the sparkle of her engagement ring, and without thinking, pulled at the rings that hadn't left her fingers for twenty nine years and threw them on the table. Taking one final look in her full-length mirror, she smiled and returned to her chair by the window. Exactly one hour had passed when she heard a knock at her door. Clearing her throat, she called out, "Come in."

Aaron walked into the room slowly; he had been worrying for the last hour since he had received the message she was back. He wondered how she was, and if Charles had managed to destroy the self-confidence she seemed to have built up over the last few weeks. Entering the room, he looked up and was momentarily struck dumb. She had been sitting, but on his entrance had stood to face him, a tentative smile on her face. Still slightly dumbstruck, he looked her up and down. She looked like ...well, an angel was the first thought that came to mind. In all the years he had known her, he was still amazed that she seemed to grow more beautiful by the day. Just when he thought she couldn't look any better, she again surprised him. Realizing that a few minutes had passed and he had not yet uttered a word, he cleared his throat. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Martha looked at him with affection in her eyes. She had enjoyed his reaction when he had entered the room, and hadn't minded when his eyes had skimmed over her body as if committing each part of her to memory. And now after all that had passed between them only a few hours ago, he was still concerned about her. She moved to close the gap between them and stood just out of his reach. "No. Not really. Aaron, I owe you an apology."

"Martha, you don't owe me anyt..."

"Yes, I do. When I left to go to see Charles, I didn't want you there. Not because I didn't _want_ you there, but because I more than anyone know how Charles can make me feel. What he can do to me."

Aaron looked at the floor, "I see."

"No. No, not in that way. I mean, he can reduce me to a crumbling wreck, an emotional Titanic, and I didn't want you to see me like that. I thought if you did, I would scare you away."

"Martha, you could nev ..."

She stepped closer to him and placed her finger over his lips. "I know now that I did the wrong thing. I know now that I want you to see me. When I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm moody – because, my darling, I can get _very_ moody. And what I have realized is that you are the first person in my life that I want to see me, all of me. And I guess I always knew that, and it scared me at first. But seeing Charles, speaking to him, it occurred to me that he held no power over me anymore because I had never let him see the real me. I've known you for such a short time, but finally someone is interested in the real me. And that scared me." She let her finger drop from his soft lips to allow him to talk.

"And now?"

"And now it doesn't scare me one little bit. I need you, Aaron. With Charles, I needed him, but he never needed me. I want you to need me as much as I need you. Does that make sense?" She gave him one of her knee-trembling smiles.

"I do need you, Martha, more than anything. And I want you to need me. I want to be there for you, whatever your mood may be. I want to be the one that knows you inside and out, and I want you to know all there is to know about me. When you left earlier, I thought that maybe I'd pushed you too far that things were moving too quickl..."

Closing the tiniest of gaps that remained between them, Martha flung herself into Aaron's arms, nearly toppling him over, and fixed her lips to his. Steadying himself, he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and allowed himself to get lost in her kisses. Moving his hands up and down her back, he found himself backing her toward the bed, never for a second allowing their lips to part. Martha gasped into Aaron's mouth as she felt his hands on her back. After her initial kiss, he had taken control, and was now backing her towards the bed behind her. Suddenly she felt the bed hit the bottom of her legs, and she fell back, taking him with her. Deepening the kiss, she allowed her hands to tangle in the back of his suit jacket and eventually slip it from his shoulders. Breaking the kiss for a split-second, she tugged it from him and threw it to the floor. Now, this was better -- she could feel his skin through the thin lining of his shirt, and as she gently nipped at his lower lip, she felt the muscles under her wandering fingers.

Aaron thought he had never felt this happy in his life. If someone had told him a year ago he would be making out with the woman of his dreams on a bed in the White House he would have said that _they _were crazy, but here he was. Here they were. Feeling her nip gently on his lower lip, he stopped thinking and started acting. He flipped them over so she was on top of him and allowed his hands to roam up the back of her sweater. The feeling of her skin on his nearly made him lose control. His eyes had been closed while they were kissing, and he opened them quickly as he felt her move away. He looked up at her to see her sitting astride him, a huge grin on her face. He sat up quickly so she fell into his lap, her legs wrapped around his back. He again claimed her lips as his own, their tongues battling for control. Finally he pulled back and stared at this beautiful creature sitting in his lap and began stroking her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess and her lips swollen from his kissing, but to him she had never looked more beautiful. Nipping gently at her ear he moved down to her neck and she threw her head back to allow him better access. Kissing a path to her cleavage showing at the v of her sweater, he stopped and worked his way back up the other side of her neck. Moaning slightly, Martha pulled away. Glancing up at her, his eyes asked a question.

"You know, I think we are going to have fun in L.A. !" Laughing at his shocked expression, she allowed him to capture her lips once again, all the while thinking that in a few days they begin their new life in Los Angeles .


End file.
